Title: Pumpkin
Pairing: Rossi/Garcia
Rating: PG
Word count: ~600
Notes: Beta'd by![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin, who, coincidentally, you can blame the cat on. :)
Dave wasn't completely sure he understood himself anymore. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Penelope was... different. He'd said as much out loud. She wears her individuality like a shield.
So when he started to find himself drawn to her, it was confusing to say the least. He liked pretty little redheads, and he didn't think those red--actual red; ambulance red--streaky... things that Penelope put in her hair counted. She knitted, and that was about the most boring hobby Dave could think of. She had a boyfriend, and Kevin really didn't like Dave. And after three marriages, one of which ended with his wife sleeping with another man, Dave really couldn't pretend he didn't care about breaking up relationships anymore. It was oddly depressing that Penelope wasn't single, and Dave hated that.
On top of that, she flirted with everyone but Dave most of the time. Dave didn't like that as well, but he wasn't sure if he was jealous, or if it was because that was the thing that had sparked his interest in the first place. He suspected the latter, because treating him differently meant she felt differently about him, and he wasn't supposed to hope that she didn't flirt where she wanted to the most out of fear of rejection. Of course, it was always possible that she just treated him differently because she still felt a little intimidated by him. He wasn't very fond of that idea, either.
Dave didn't just hate that. That pissed Dave off. God damned unrequited attraction was not his style.
I was safe to say that Dave wasn't just confused, but that he was also more than a little irked. "God damn it," he mumbled to himself as he approached the glass doors into the BAU, seeing her bustling through inside.
She was wearing blinding lime green, with poofy things in her hair that matched, and lipstick that didn't. "Hello, hello, my grumpy-looking friend," she said, smiling at him. "What's up?"
"It's seven-thirty," he complained.
She caught his elbow when he tried to pass her, and he held his breath. "Yeah, it's seven-thirty, and you're a morning person," she said.
He blinked at her.
"Doesn't take a profiler, pumpkin," she said.
Pumpkin. She'd just called him pumpkin. That took a moment to process. "I'm fine," he said finally.
She snorted in apparent disbelief. "Walk with me, talk with me," she said, and tugged his arm again before dropping her hand and walking toward her office.
He stared after her for a moment, and then found it impossible not to follow.
"Late night?" she asked.
"A fun-filled extravaganza of watching the news with Cat, and going to bed early," he said.
"Who's Cat?"
"My cat."
"You... named your cat 'Cat'?"
"Yes," he said lightly.
"Wow." She was silent for a moment. "David Rossi has a cat," she said, disbelieving.
"He's a bastard," he replied, and she laughed.
"Ah, well, it takes one to know one, dear heart."
Okay, maybe she wasn't intimidated by him. Dave found himself smiling faintly. "Dear heart," he repeated.
She turned around in the doorway to her bunker. "Yep. Now go to your office. Shoo."
Dave's smile widened. "I thought we were supposed to be talking."
She nodded. "We were. And now you're smiling. Mission accomplished." She patted his cheek, and his eyebrows lifted. "Shoo," she repeated, and then shut the door on him.
He stood there for a moment, and then a tiny chuckle bubbled up inside him. He turned and walked away. As much as he didn't understand what the hell he was feeling, he wasn't sure he'd ever really understand her.
Oddly, he realized, that was one thing that didn't bother him.
Pairing: Rossi/Garcia
Rating: PG
Word count: ~600
Notes: Beta'd by
innerslytherin, who, coincidentally, you can blame the cat on. :)Dave wasn't completely sure he understood himself anymore. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Penelope was... different. He'd said as much out loud. She wears her individuality like a shield.
So when he started to find himself drawn to her, it was confusing to say the least. He liked pretty little redheads, and he didn't think those red--actual red; ambulance red--streaky... things that Penelope put in her hair counted. She knitted, and that was about the most boring hobby Dave could think of. She had a boyfriend, and Kevin really didn't like Dave. And after three marriages, one of which ended with his wife sleeping with another man, Dave really couldn't pretend he didn't care about breaking up relationships anymore. It was oddly depressing that Penelope wasn't single, and Dave hated that.
On top of that, she flirted with everyone but Dave most of the time. Dave didn't like that as well, but he wasn't sure if he was jealous, or if it was because that was the thing that had sparked his interest in the first place. He suspected the latter, because treating him differently meant she felt differently about him, and he wasn't supposed to hope that she didn't flirt where she wanted to the most out of fear of rejection. Of course, it was always possible that she just treated him differently because she still felt a little intimidated by him. He wasn't very fond of that idea, either.
Dave didn't just hate that. That pissed Dave off. God damned unrequited attraction was not his style.
I was safe to say that Dave wasn't just confused, but that he was also more than a little irked. "God damn it," he mumbled to himself as he approached the glass doors into the BAU, seeing her bustling through inside.
She was wearing blinding lime green, with poofy things in her hair that matched, and lipstick that didn't. "Hello, hello, my grumpy-looking friend," she said, smiling at him. "What's up?"
"It's seven-thirty," he complained.
She caught his elbow when he tried to pass her, and he held his breath. "Yeah, it's seven-thirty, and you're a morning person," she said.
He blinked at her.
"Doesn't take a profiler, pumpkin," she said.
Pumpkin. She'd just called him pumpkin. That took a moment to process. "I'm fine," he said finally.
She snorted in apparent disbelief. "Walk with me, talk with me," she said, and tugged his arm again before dropping her hand and walking toward her office.
He stared after her for a moment, and then found it impossible not to follow.
"Late night?" she asked.
"A fun-filled extravaganza of watching the news with Cat, and going to bed early," he said.
"Who's Cat?"
"My cat."
"You... named your cat 'Cat'?"
"Yes," he said lightly.
"Wow." She was silent for a moment. "David Rossi has a cat," she said, disbelieving.
"He's a bastard," he replied, and she laughed.
"Ah, well, it takes one to know one, dear heart."
Okay, maybe she wasn't intimidated by him. Dave found himself smiling faintly. "Dear heart," he repeated.
She turned around in the doorway to her bunker. "Yep. Now go to your office. Shoo."
Dave's smile widened. "I thought we were supposed to be talking."
She nodded. "We were. And now you're smiling. Mission accomplished." She patted his cheek, and his eyebrows lifted. "Shoo," she repeated, and then shut the door on him.
He stood there for a moment, and then a tiny chuckle bubbled up inside him. He turned and walked away. As much as he didn't understand what the hell he was feeling, he wasn't sure he'd ever really understand her.
Oddly, he realized, that was one thing that didn't bother him.